


One-shot Playlist

by idk5678



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Based on a Fletcher song, Based on a Phoebe Bridgers song, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, F/F, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:28:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25428421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idk5678/pseuds/idk5678
Summary: These will all be one-shots inspired by songs. Each chapter will be a different story based on the lyrics of a song.I highly recommend listening to the song before reading or while reading the chapter!Get ready for angst, fluff, and everything in between!
Relationships: Anya/Raven Reyes, Clarke Griffin & Lexa, Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Octavia Blake/Lincoln
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	1. The Night We Met by Lord Huron feat. Phoebe Bridgers

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter is based on the song The Night We Met by Lord Huron (feat. Phoebe Bridgers). I recommend listening the song before or while reading.
> 
> Lexa and Clarke meet serendipitously. Friends with benefits ensue and Lexa is left to deal with the consequences of a broken heart. Time jumps. Angst with a happy ending!

October, 2018

It burned. All of it. The sleepy yellow glow from the street lights outside. The watered down whisky casting amber reflections on the hardwood floor. The corners of her eyes, and the sharp edges of her chest, and all the pieces of her old life that just didn’t seem to fit anymore, no matter how many times she rearranged them. 

She didn’t know how much more of herself she could give to the pain without becoming another shadow on the wall, another empty glass in the sink. She felt haunted by a memory, by a ghost with a body to claim. She just wished the ghost wanted her in the same ways its body did; at three AM, when the bars were closed and rational thought diluted by tequila moments and lime juice lips. Her skin replacing salt rims and saccharin sweet chasers. Ease the burn, distract the pain, create illusions of happiness like shadow puppets gracelessly tumbling across the wall. 

That was Lexa’s only job. Too bad her heart is an overachiever.

So here she sat, feeling more parts ache than skin and bone. The alcohol no longer taking the edge off, when she’s drank in the potency of blonde waves and blue irises and expertly gentle finger tips. Lexa had heard of being love drunk, so this must be the love hang over; throbbing memories in between waves of dull pain. 

She reached for her phone, only one name on her lips, only one name claiming the pads of her fingers against glass.

“Clarke...I’ve fought the urge to reach out, the urge to hear your voice. I know this version of me isn’t what you signed up for... isn’t what you were looking for in that bar a year and a half ago...

But you gave me what I thought was all of you... And then you got scared, and pulled away, reducing our interactions to only some of you, only the easy parts of you... and maybe you saw that look in my eye, or felt the race of my heart when you fell asleep on my chest... causing you once again to retreat, leaving me with none of you.

And as I sit here, the absence of you bringing me no more comfort than the silence itself, I realize I’m in love... I’m in love and you’re too scared to look me in the eyes and face it.

And without the closure of goodbye, all I’m left with is misplaced longing for you and the overwhelming regret of ever meeting you at all... the wish to go back to the night we met and avoid the chilling splash of your drink and the sadness in your gaze and your split second decision to make me a temporary answer for your selfish pain. 

I know... I’m not him... I know I’ll never be him... but I’m still a person with needs and wants and a beating fucking heart... A heart that wants you... I just wish that were enough.

More than anything else, I wish I could go back to the night we met...”

“If you are done leaving your voicemail, either hang up or press 1 for more options.”

:  
:  
:  
April, 2017

Lexa was distracted. The bar was crowded, and the idle thrumming of easy conversation overwhelmed her senses. Anya was convinced this is what she needed, a night out with friends after a stressful work week and less than stellar run in with her ex. But all she could really focus on was the condensation of her beer, and the way everyone else seemed so at ease, so present.

And as distracted as she was, she didn’t seem to be nearly as out of it as the blonde now crushing drinks against her torso, creating a tie dye splatter that warranted profuse apologies and fist fulls of cocktail napkins. All Lexa could do was laugh as the blonde clumsily blotted at her abdomen and ran through her repertoire of curse words under her breath. 

“You know... I usually make a girl buy me a drink first before getting this handsy. But I guess I’m wearing it.” Ocean blue eyes shot up, wide in horror. She immediately abandoned the damp wads of paper on the bar and shook her head in embarrassment. 

“I’m so sorry... fuck- I’m useless...” The distressed blonde immediately turned to exit the bar, clearly shaken, and clearly not just by the awkward interaction with an unlucky stranger. Something made Lexa’s legs move faster than the thoughts in her head. Don’t let her go... Don’t let her go...

“Hey! Wait!” Lexa chased her down half a city block before the blonde even registered her presence. When she turned all Lexa could comprehend was teary eyes and ragged breath. “Don’t cry over spilled drinks...” the brunette tried, but the joke landed with a thud in between two separate realities. “Are you alright?”

When they were finally making solid eye contact, all Lexa could think was how she never wanted to see another blue unless it had green flecks and unkempt desire. Like an unspoken agreement, their lips crashed together, all chaos and what could only be described as uncommon sense. Reckless and wanting, but still so soft, so unabashedly sweet.

When they finally broke apart, damp button downs were long since forgotten, and fingers had found their home between ribs, eyes searching for answers neither party had. “Hi, I’m Lexa.”

“Hey... I’m Clarke.”

:  
:  
:

July, 2017

“Well Lex, you have a knack for falling for the emotionally unavailable. I’ll give you that much.” Anya pulled Lexa from another Clarke infused daydream. Her fingers toying with the delicate stem of a half empty wine glass. Or perhaps half full if Lexa wasn’t such a pessimistic realist.

“I haven’t fallen for her, Ahn. We’re just friends with reciprocal benefits.” Lexa knew she was lying through her teeth, but she didn’t have the emotional bandwidth for the ‘Clarke conversation’. She barely had enough energy for a conversation period.

“Raven told me she’s still pretty hung up on that guy... What’s his name... Phil?” Lexa was growing more impatient and frustrated with each passing moment. Her eyes flashing up to meet her sister’s.

“Finn... His name is Finn...” It was still hard to say it, still hard to give brief reality to the idea of a person Lexa often pretended didn’t exist. If only Clarke could do the same. If only Clarke saw him as a static memory, rather than a dynamic actuality. Leaving the brunette no other choice than to stay quiet every time she watched the blonde slip out of her apartment at alarmingly odd hours. She was sure the neighbors were talking. She just wish there was more of a story to tell. 

“Just please... For the love of a god you don’t believe in... Please be careful.” Anya’s voice was quiet, almost desperate. And all Lexa had was her word and an ache in her heart that she feared would never go away.

:  
:  
:

September, 2018

“Sexy Lexyyyyy... I missed you!” Clarke wrapped her arms around Lexa’s shoulder like a sling, and pressed a sloppy, sangria sweet kiss to her cheek. It had been a week since they had seen each other, but Lexa knew to expect a call around midnight every Saturday. It had become a sad, slightly desperate ritual provoked by too many vodka drinks, and not enough hydration.

“I missed you too, Clarke.” Lexa whispered delicately into the blonde’s ear, her warm breath causing to the girl to shiver in her arms. “Let’s get you home.”

Clarke nodded, sliding her arm around the brunette’s waist and tucking her head in the crook of her neck. Lexa was acutely aware that this was all a temporary fix. That she was just a placeholder until Clarke inevitably forgave Finn. And maybe she shouldn’t be so available for an inebriated blonde who could never truly love her the way she needed to be loved. But god did it feel good to be her safety, to be her temporary fix. 

The evening breeze was cutting, almost sobering, and Lexa could feel Clarke stirring in her embrace, making it harder to guide the girl home. 

“Clarke, baby, you gotta help me here.” The pet named seemed to bristle the girl, stinging a piece of her heart that she never intended for Lexa to find. 

“I’m not your baby.” The words were sharp and pointed, breaking through buzzed fog. Those blue eyes were no longer hazy, no longer hers to claim. Clearly, they never were, not even once a week, at the bottom of a shot glass.

“I know. Sorry.” Lexa loosened her grip around the blonde, still reeling from the unintended consequences of her accidental endearment. She just wanted to get the girl to her bed safely so she could return home and ache in peace.

“Lexa... I’m sorry... Please, forgive me.” Clarke could feel the sudden distance, the brunette’s body now replaced by early autumn chill and the absence of comforting touch. 

“There’s nothing to forgive. You’re right. You’re not mine to call baby.” Her eyes were beginning to sting, but she could see the chipping paint of Clarke’s apartment door, and would soon be relieved of her martyring duties. Just five more minutes, she kept telling herself.

All of a sudden, Clarke stopped stubbornly in her tracks, her arms crossing her chest like they had something to bear and her eyes illuminating a point she had yet to make.

“When we met... When we started all of this.. You agreed, no strings, no feelings. Friends with benefits.” Lexa was now stopping too, but found it hard to turn and see the honesty in the blonde’s gaze. 

“You’re right Clarke, I did agree to all of that. But do you think me taking you home every weekend to make sure you’re safe is something a fuck buddy does? Do you think me holding you until you fall asleep, and tucking you in before I make the trek back to my apartment is something that a fuck buddy does? No. But I do it for reasons you’ll never be ready to hear.” The anger was now burning her chest and tightening her throat, slipping in and out of words she was trying her best not to say.

“Am I not ready to hear it, or are you not ready to say it?” The question was just above a whisper, but it felt heavier than the exhale it had escaped on. And in that moment, staring into an abyss of blue, she knew she would never be enough. She was too soft, too gentle. All good intentions and wishful thinking. She was Clarke’s drunk desire, when the blonde was Lexa’s every waking thought. 

“Clarke... Can we please just get you to bed?” Lexa was trembling, vibrating with confessions she couldn’t find the strength to release. She felt less like a chaser, and more like melting ice in an abandoned whisky glass; losing form, losing purpose. 

“Why? So you can leave with a clear conscious?” Clarke was now shaking her head, hands up as if she were surrendering to an idea still stuck in her throat. 

“What do you want from me, Clarke?! I’m doing what’s right... I’m doing what’s for the best...” Tears left silver, moonlight tracks on her cheeks. She wiped at them haphazardly with the back of her hand, jaw pulsing, eyes searching for answers in stars hidden by city smog. “When you look in my eyes, you’re searching for pieces of him. I can see it... I can feel it when you reach for something in me that was never there, that only he can give you... You’re searching for answers in the wrong person.”

“Lex...” And there was that gaze. That sad, desperate, heart broken gaze that Lexa hadn’t seen at this magnitude since the night they met. She wanted to take it all away, drown the ache in kisses and roaming finger tips. But she knew if she didn’t leave now, she would chase Clarke down a drain, down a dead end road, down a rabbit hole of sleepless nights and eternal what ifs.

So Lexa broke eye contact and turned her back like a key in a lock, feeling so much pressure at first and then total release. Her legs moved slowly, but with purpose. Confident that Clarke wouldn’t chase her, wouldn’t find anything worth chasing. No words were uttered, no regret filled pleas. Just the distant sound of cop car sirens and insomniac chatter. 

If Clarke wanted her, she would’ve fought for her. But instead she took the form of a ghost, caught in memories, materializing in chilling breezes and rattling leaves.

:  
:  
:

October, 2018

“Lexa, please... Just open the door...” A familiarly sweet voice woke the brunette from her dozing position on her couch. She rubbed at her eyes, trying to alleviate the irritating sting of her sudden consciousness. “Lexa, I know you’re home. I just... I need to see you.”

She shook her head, desperately trying to convince herself that the small, sad voice from the other side of the door was a memory, a mirage, a cruel trick her mind had conjured up after one too many whiskey sours. She walked to the entry, pressed her long fingers to the splintering oak, and rested her forehead right next to the peephole. Too scared to look through and either find everything or nothing at all.

“Clarke...” Her voice cracked, tears pricking through thick eyelashes and devastating realities that the brunette wasn’t ready to face.

“Lex, I’m here. Please just let me in.” The voice sounded more assured, like its purpose had been renewed. It had a name, and a body, and a soul that Lexa wanted to so desperately give in to. 

“I shouldn’t have called. I’m sorry. You should... you should go home.” It pained Lexa to send her away, to keep a door and a broken heart between them. But she felt useless and damaged, and nothing about that combination sounded ready to face her favorite blue eyes.

“I have things I need to tell you. Things I’d prefer not to confess to a dead bolt lock and an empty hallway...” Lexa could hear how full that statement was, she just wasn’t entirely sure what it was full of. Ache, desire, fear. It seemed to matter less and less with each passing moment. She pressed a trembling hand to the cool door knob, holding it there for just a moment and then slowly turning it. The door opened just a crack to reveal a messy mop of blonde waves and red rimmed eyes. While all signs pointed to devastation and lack of sleep, her stoic expression held a resounding courage that broke through it all. And then the image of Lexa seemed to shatter her resolve. “Baby...”

It was soft and undeniably warm. It felt hot in the brunette’s chest and fiery in her eyes. The word that set them ablaze, now slipping from the blonde’s pink lips.

“I’m not your baby...” When those words tumbled from Lexa’s mouth, they weren’t cutting and bitter, they were anguished and disheartened. She could see baby blue eyes squeezing shut, a shaky breath escaping through gritted teeth. Once composed, Lexa felt soft fingers rap around her own, now gripping at the edge of the door and peeling it farther open so they could take a step inside. It felt like a tense slow dance, too many edges with nowhere to put them, nowhere to fit them.

“Lexa, I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am... How selfish I’ve been...” Clarke stared at the floor, waiting for inspiration only incautious bravery could provide.

“You don’t have to do this, Clarke. You were right, I broke the agreement... I lost sight of what this was. I was the selfish one for wanting more than you could give.” Clarke’s eyes flew up to meet hers, a now deeper, darker blue than Lexa was used to. She was now shaking her head out of frustration and perhaps misunderstanding.

“A year and a half ago, I was in no place to get know you, none the less get to love you. But you were patient and kind, you moved slow and never pushed me. You held me when I cried, and kissed me when I didn’t deserve it... When I never deserved you...

And as time went on, you helped me heal, you helped me grow, you showed me that I deserved more. And I craved that kind of warm, positive energy in my life. I craved you in ways I knew I shouldn’t, in ways that did not uphold our agreement. So I pulled away... I put up my walls, too scared to know that there was a world where I could have it all... with you...

And in my weak moments, I always found myself calling you, reaching for a home that wasn’t my bed, wasn’t my apartment, had brown curls and green eyes and always knew what to say. And then...” Clarke’s voice cracked and her eyes failed to find the words she was searching for.

“And then I called you baby...” Lexa finished the sentence as if it were her own, as if she hadn’t played it over and over again every night since that night.

“And then you called me baby, and I saw that look in your eyes, and I got scared. He used to give me that look too... And knowing that the eventual absence of that look could lead to heart ache, could tear down all the progress I’ve made...It scared me...”

Lexa nodded in understanding, but couldn’t shake the frustration taking up residence in her chest and in the pit of her stomach. She wasn’t Finn. She wasn’t the worst parts of him, she wasn’t Clarke’s favorite parts of him. She was different. She knew the cost of her own love, the impossibly eternal ways her heart pounded for everything Clarke is.

“I’ve hated every moment since that fight... Missing you in every way possible that a soul could miss someone. And when I got your voicemail, when I felt you slipping away... regretting ever knowing me at all... I panicked. I had to see you, know where you stood... know that you know where I stand...” A tear escaped down Clarke’s cheek and clung to her chiseled jaw bone. Lexa wanted to reach out, wipe away any evidence of their mutual heartbreak. But she was too scared, too full of questions.

“Where do you stand, Clarke?” The question was just above a whisper, only a careful ear able to catch it before it disappeared into the cool evening air.

‘I love you... I’m in love with you...” Clarke sounded firm in her statement, but her eyes were aglow with insecurity.

“Are you just saying that because you’re scared of losing me? Because Clarke, I can’t be your back up plan. I can’t be your heart’s compromise...” Lexa met her gaze, eyes filled with tears, words heavy with doubt. Before she could even register what was happening, she felt Clarke’s arms reaching for her, pulling here against her chest and burying her face in brunette waves. 

“Baby... you are it for me. You should never be anyone’s second choice, and I’m so sorry I ever made you feel that you were mine... “ She could feel Clarke convulsing in her arms, her shoulder now damp with the consequences of regret. “I’m so in love with you that I’m not sure what to do with it all.”

Lexa pulled away slightly so she could see into Adriatic blues, gently wiping at rosy cheeks and mascara storm clouds. She kissed her softly, carefully, as if to say ‘we’re going to be okay.’

“Even if I could go back to the night we met, I wouldn’t change a thing. I’d rather love you with all the consequences then never know you at all.”

“No regrets?”

“No regrets.”


	2. Forever (Stripped)- Fletcher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was mainly inspired by the stripped version of Forever by Fletcher.
> 
> However Clarke’s view point was inspired by the 1 by Taylor Swift
> 
> Highly recommend listening to both songs before or during the read!
> 
> Please note, some time jumping does occur.

Forever (Stripped)- Fletcher

Freedom. That’s all Lexa felt as she left her key in Costia’s mailbox and began the walk back to her new, nearly empty, all echoes home. She balanced a box of records on her hip as she took in one last glimpse of her old life, of her old future. Too many doors, too many stairs, all tiptoes and not enough windows. Staring at it now, seeing all the fault lines and vulnerabilities hidden by climbing ivy and city charm, she wondered how she had survived all this time without the warmth of natural light and unadulterated freedom.

As she stepped backwards, expecting the sound of crunching fall leaves and the start to her fresh start, she was met with a quiet grunt and what could only be described as Midwestern apologies. Gentle hands took residence on either side of her, holding her steady, giving her enough time to get a good look at her polite disturbance. A messy mane of blonde waves only tamed by drug store hair ties and rogue Bobby pins. Careful blue eyes studied her own, seeming to get stuck on pouting pink and disrupted evergreen.

“I am so sorry...” the blonde stuttered through clumsy breaths and recovered missteps. “I didn’t mean to disturb your... uh... moment there.” 

Lexa realized she looked like a sad image of a broken heart, arms full of love songs staring back at stones throw of a dream. Blue eyes were now puncturing through any evidence of relief she was desperately trying to cling too. Too much empathy, too much beauty, no calendar needed to confirm her newly unclaimed availability. 

“Um... No, it’s totally my bad. I wasn’t paying attention.” The words tumbled from her tongue like wrestling siblings, all punch, no mercy. She tried to clear her throat, but it didn’t seem to make the moment any less awkward.

“Well, my name is Clarke, and I was about to head to the cafe around the corner. I’d love to buy you an apology latte.” The curve of The blonde’s smile and the kindness never wavering in her gaze seemed to hit Lexa harder than her own stream of consciousness.

“I’m Lexa, and you don’t have to... Seriously, this is on me.” The statement seemed to draw out a daring grin from Clarke. The type of grin that seemed to give a spotlight for her perfectly placed beauty mark.

“Well in that case, maybe the coffee is on you.”  
:  
:

Clarke’s kisses were soft, slowed down by the weight of the adoration they carried. Her hands knew Lexa’s body, no need for the soft glow of the reading lamp on her bedside table. No need for the soft glow to give reality to all the love in Clarke’s eyes, to all the love Lexa left packed in a cardboard box labeled ‘Vinyl’.

As the blonde collapsed to her chest and placed a gentle peck to her jaw, she could feel the immensity of who they are to each other slipping in and out of each inhale and exhale. She wasn’t ready for it. Wasn’t sure she would ever be ready for it. 

And she knew it wasn’t fair, staring down at golden curls and long, fluttering lashes now leaving unintentional butterfly kisses near her sternum. It wasn’t fair because Clarke looked at her in forever kinds of ways. In ‘give me all your impromptu slow dances, and lazy Sundays, and quickening heart beats’ kinds of ways. And Lexa couldn’t help but hope that maybe someday she could give all that, could give her an eternally content smile and her last name. 

But in the almost 2 years that they’ve known each other, Lexa was just getting used to her freedom. Sure, it sometimes felt baggy in all the wrong paces, slipping off her shoulders or being discarded on the couch before moments like this. Before she could pretend to be what Clarke needed in the middle of the night, when loneliness felt heavier than the consequences of breaking a heart. She just wished Clarke didn’t fit her perfectly, didn’t make choosing freedom so hard.

“Lex... go to sleep...” The rasp of sleep in her voice was the only evidence the brunette needed that she should turn off her thoughts and follow suit. But it was so hard when every moment with Clarke held the potential of forever, at the same time holding the weight of this being the last time she would feel her heart beat like this. 

:  
:

Lexa hated birthdays. Hated the taste another year older left in her mouth. Closing in on 30, and all she wanted to do was tuck and roll away from the inevitable. But Clarke insisted on having a small party at her house with their closest friends. Insisted that Lexa’s existence deserved to be celebrated. 

The gathering was in full swing, friends gathered around the kitchen island with plates of soft cheeses and fruits, others standing in the living room swirling glasses of red wine and engaging in comfortable chatter.

She spotted her sister leaning against the back of a recliner as her girlfriend, Raven, animatedly told a story about some engineering feat she had accomplished at work that day. But as she scanned the room of all her favorite people, she had trouble locating the only one she really wanted to spend her dwindling youth with.

“Hey Ahn, have you seen Clarke anywhere?” Anya looked back at her with a knowing smile and then jerked her head to the right, pointing to the outdoor patio. 

“I think she’s by the pool. Better go exchange your voucher for a birthday kiss.” This made Raven snicker in acknowledgement as Lexa rolled her eyes. Anya had been trying to get Lexa’s head out of her ass for months. Always going with the same script of ‘Who needs freedom when you could have everything you’ve ever wanted’.

“Clarke?” It was an inky black outside, only broken up by the blue glimmer of chlorine waves. She spotted the blonde sitting on the edge, fidgeting with something in her hand, and dangling her feet in the deep end.

“Hey Lex, over here.” Lexa took the vacant spot next to her, slipping an arm around the blonde’s waist and scooting her closer. “How does it feel to enter your geriatric years?”

The delivery of the joke felt cumbersome and heavy, falling from rose pink lips with intentional force. Something seemed odd, seemed different. 

“Baby, you okay?” Lexa’s voice was soft, full of concern, and it made the blonde shutter in her arms. 

“Why do you call me that, Lexa? It’s so... domestic.” This was not the first time they’ve had this conversation, not the first time Clarke has asked for commitment without saying the words. 

“Clarke, please... I don’t really want to fight about this tonight.” The blonde nodded, but Lexa didn’t miss the rain clouds now forming in her eyes. She hated herself for being the cause of them. For not being what Clarke deserved. Lexa looked down at the object in Clarke’s hand. It appeared to be a penny, heads up, sparkling against blue reflections and outdoor twinkle lights.

“Found this on the sidewalk outside your house. Legend has it they’re pretty luck.” Her thumb was now fidgeting with the edge of it, like it was trying to position itself perfectly. The flickering movement felt akin to the flickering pain in Clarke’s eyes and the pounding ache in Lexa’s own heart. Before she could really process anything, she heard a small, metallic clink and then spotted the penny making small ripples before disappearing into 9 feet of all the words Lexa wanted to say, should be saying.

“What did you wish for?” Was all Lexa could utter as she felt Clarke begin to wiggle from her arms.

“If I told you, it may never come true.” And with that, Clarke kneeled forward and placed the softest kiss Lexa had ever received on her lips, before regaining her footing and leaving the brunette reeling on her own. Why did freedom suddenly feel like heart break?  
:  
:

They were all drunk at their favorite bar, tequila shots chased by swigs of beer, and extinguished by the giddy feeling only inebriation can provide. Lexa watched as Clarke’s beauty mark disappeared behind the rim of a whiskey glass. She just wished she could replace the frosted cup with her own lips.

“If you stare any harder, your eyes are gonna pop out of your head.” Anya placed a mechanical arm around her shoulders and watched Lexa’s gaze flicker back to her drink. It had been over a week since Lexa had seen Clarke; all dial tones and unanswered messages. She missed her, missed her more than she thought she could miss someone. “Lex... incoming to your left.” 

Before Lexa had enough time to heed Anya’s warning, she saw Costia wearing a drunk smile and far too much perfume. Lexa hated the nostalgic feelings that scent conjured up, as Costia grabbed either side of the distressed bar stool she was sitting on and pivoted it to face her.

“Lexy poo, I missed you!” The statement felt like it was carried out by one overworked syllable. The glazed over look in Costia’s eyes was the only clue Lexa needed to know this wouldn’t end well for her. “Did you miss me?!”

Her words were loud and cluttering Lexa’s already occupied train of thought. And even though she was overwhelmed and inarguably confused, she still managed to look up and find Clarke’s eyes on them, blue magnified by frustrated raindrops threatening to pour over. Her attention was only snapped back to her uninvited guest when she felt uncoordinated, sloppy kisses trailing from her lips down her jaw. 

“Costia! What are are you doing?!” The delivery was sharp and brimming with shock. Lexa was now leaning back so far that Anya had to steady her before she fell backwards. Death by sticky bar floor didn’t seem so bad right now as she looked over and realized Clarke was gone, replaced by a disappointed Raven. 

“I mean... you’re single, right?” That statement alone felt so uncomfortable, so uneasy, but so undeniably true.

“Yes... but you and I, we’re through Cos. I can’t be that person for you anymore.” With the consequences of that admission still hanging in the air, Lexa bolted out of the bar and down the street. She needed to find Clarke. Needed to make this right. 

After sprinting down two city blocks, her lungs closer to giving up than her heart, she spotted a hunched over blonde on a bench. Stuttering sobs ricocheted through the air, confirmed further by vibrating shoulders.

“Baby...” It was the only word Lexa could get out as she kneeled down in front of Clarke, testing how close she could get before the blonde had enough.

“Don’t call me that! You don’t get to do this, Lex...” Ocean blues were now meeting evergreens, and the brunette didn’t quite know what to do to, what to say. 

“Clarke, I’m sorry you had to see that...” She could see the pulsing of the blonde’s jaw and the renewed tension in balled up fists on her lap. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

In fact, that was the last thing Lexa ever wanted to do. It felt totally unnatural to know she was the reason for Clarke’s distress.

“I know you’re single... I know you are free to do whatever you want... but you have to know by now. You have to see it in my eyes, hear it in my voice...” 

“See what? Hear what?” Lexa knew exactly what, but she was trying to keep her plausible deniability. Act as though she didn’t already know that Clarke was head over heels in love with her. Was making penny wishes in the deep end of heart break.

“I’m in love with you, Lexa! I’m in love with you, and I don’t know how to make it stop... how to make it hurt less... I hoped maybe, if I was patient, that you might feel the same way too.” There it was. The tension snapped and Clarke dangling over the side of a cliff begging Lexa to pull her up.

“Clarke... I can’t be that for you right now.” She kept her voice level, her gaze down at her hands. “When I’m with you, everything makes sense. It fits into place. It feels like the start to forever. But... I’m not ready for forever yet.”

Without a word, Clarke shook Lexa’s hold on her and got to her feet. Refusing to make eye contact, she gathered her things from the bench, only pausing to utter one last thing.

“I’m not going to wait forever for my forever, Lexa. Enjoy your freedom.” 

:  
:

“You’re a fucking idiot, do you know that? Are you aware that your head is so far up your ass that it’s almost made it back your neck? That’s a feat I didn’t think anyone was capable of, but you’ve seemed to really perfect the art of dumb assery.” Anya was now pacing around Lexa’s living room, a disbelieving look in her eye.

“Anya... do we have to do this right now?” Lexa looked like an unbathed, unfed fungus growing out of the couch. She knew what this was, she just wasn’t ready for what this was.

“Do we have to do this right now?! You’re impossible, Lex.” Anya was now shaking her head in utter frustration and disappointment. “Clarke called Raven the other day. She was a fucking mess. Said she told you she was IN LOVE with you, emphasis on the IN LOVE part, and you told her you’re not ready for forever?! I mean come on! She’s beautiful, she’s funny, she’s smart, she looks at you like a rainbow comes out of your ass, and you look at her like she’s the origin of sunshine itself, and all you have to say when she tells you she loves you is that you’re not ready?”

“I was with Costia for 5 years. Half a decade trying to please her, trying to make her happy. I lost myself in it.” The raw disappointment in her voice halted Anya where she stood, only a coffee table and years of regret between them. “After it all ended, I promised myself I would be single, find myself, have one night stands, stay out way too late on a week night. Actually live. I wasn’t supposed to meet her yet... I wasn’t ready...”

“By ‘her’ you mean blondie, right?” Anya’s words were softer, more palpable. Her gaze suffocatingly empathetic.

“Yes, of course I mean Clarke... Of course I’m absolutely in love with Clarke... I just... I’m scared, Ahn.” Anya was now crossing the room toward her, taking the cushion next to her and pulling her in for an uncharacteristically gentle hug. 

“Forever is scary, Lex. But it’s so worth it.” 

:  
:

Lexa wasn’t usually the type who found charm in big, romantic gestures. She wasn’t usually the type to buy into the symbolism of red roses or expensive jewelry. She wasn’t usually the type to buzz from caffeine and anxious energy. But for Clarke, she would do anything if it meant there was still a chance. Still a chance of impromptu slow dances, and lazy Sundays, and eternally content smiles. 

So here she sat, like a sad image of a broken heart, wilting flowers in one hand and a lukewarm coffee in the other. Hoping that the cafe Clarke took her to the day they met, the cafe Clarke frequented almost every morning, would be paid it’s usual visit.

And then, like magic or fate or just routine habit, she appeared like an angel, soft curls lit by mid morning sunshine. Lexa watched her for a moment, not wanting to face reality just yet. Not wanting to disturb the effortless beauty before her. And in that moment, as Clarke bit at her lip and stared at chalkboard doodles of dancing coffee cups holding the names of the specials of the day, full well knowing she will just end up ordering her usual chai tea latte with extra cinnamon on top, she couldn’t help but think that this was freedom. That loving Clarke was freedom from all of her preconceived notions of happiness, of excitement, of love. She was all windows, all natural light, all warmth.

Clinging to the coattails of that thought, she stood up, the sound of the legs scraping the floor disrupted Clarke’s momentary mental affair with a matcha green tea.

“Lexa...” was all she could utter as she made her way towards the table. Her expression was hard to read, full of conflict and thunderclouds. 

“Clarke, I’ve been a colossal idiot... and I know I hurt you, I know I disappointed you, I know I took advantage of your giving heart. But I was so fucking scared. It’s not nearly a good enough reason, it’s not even the saddest attempt at an excuse, but it is the truth.” The words were tumbling from Lexa’s lips like marathon runners, trying to beat their best time. “When I look at you, when you’re in my arms, it feels so heavy with potential, like we’re so right that an eternity wouldn’t even be long enough to discover all the reasons why. And the idea of forever, the enormity of it petrified me.” Clarke was now standing 6 feet from the table, all shaky hands and 9 foot deep ocean blues. 

“Lexa... you don’t think I’m scared? I put my heart out there, risked it betting on you, and I’ve been wondering how I could be so stupid ever since.” Her voice was calm, but heavy with disappointment. “I’m sure you miss me, because I know you felt what we had too, but I can’t risk another rejection... I can’t...”

The statement felt more like she was trying to convince her own heart than she was trying to convince Lexa, but it burned all the same. Like sleepy eyes and embers that refused to die. Love that refused to die no matter how tired it was of waiting.

Lexa approached Clarke slowly, moving from behind the table and closing the 5 feet of distance between them. She took one of the shaky hands in her own, and rubbed soothing circles on the back of it.

“I’m so sorry, Clarke. Hurting you is something I’ll always regret. But I could never regret our time together, no matter how this ends, because any time with you is more than I deserved. I’m so in love with you. I’m so in love with everything you are, everything we are when we’re together. Loving you is freedom.”

This was the first time Clarke’s nervous gaze was fully able to meet hers, tears threatening to pour over like slow drip coffee.

“The other night, you made a wish on a penny. I know this is a bit presumptuous, but I assumed it had to do with me...” Lexa’s words were quiet and timid, as her hand disappeared behind dark wash, distressed denim, and reappeared with a small box. She clicked it open with little effort and pulled out a delicate white gold chain with a copper disc hanging from it. “But Clarke, you don’t need the luck of legends or wishful thinking to know you have my whole heart as long as you want it, as long as you’ll have it.”

Clarke let out a hiccuped giggle as she took the necklace into her own hands and studied the most meaningful jewelry she’d ever received.

“Is this THE penny?” A small smile giving dim light to Lexa’s hopeful heart.

“Uh yeah... Let’s just say I’m still recovering from a headache the child sized googles conjured up. Seems like a small price to pay for the most valuable penny this world has ever seen.”

Before she had the chance to say anything else, she felt her favorite pair of lips crash into her own, all impatience, all forgiveness.

“So this is it?”

“This is it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Let me know what you think, and if you like the format of these chapters. If you do, I’ll keep going!


	3. All Too Well by Taylor Swift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter inspired by the song All Too Well by Taylor Swift.
> 
> Time jumping. Fluff and angst.

All Too Well- Taylor Swift Clarke nearly tripped over it as she was elbow deep in all the pieces of herself she thought she had lost. Elbow deep in a bag filled with expired make up, and unsigned birthday cards, and restaurant peppermints stolen like fist fulls of contraband on the way out the door. Fishing passed stale granola bars and fortune cookie predictions that she didn’t have the heart to throw away. Finger tips danced on torn lining, searching for cool metallic and defined ridges. 

As she looped her index finger around her key ring, she found herself nearly tumbling to the ground, caught only by quick reflexes and the protruding door frame. She would be embarrassed by her almost cartoon character-esque flailing of limbs, if the hall weren’t empty and her attention wasn’t now solely caught on a medium sized cardboard box taking residence in front of her door.

So this was it. This was the moment she had been dreading for over a month. Though she knew it was inevitable; they hadn’t spoken in weeks, not even a drunk text or an accidental butt dial. But up until now, up until reality practically caused her to face plant in a conveniently vacant hallway, she could pretend that they could fix this. That they could find common ground, that they could renegotiate the terms of their relationship that got them to this point.

But no amount of pretending could take away the only physical evidence Clarke needed to know it was over.

She unlocked her door, her heart feeling heavier than the temperamental deadbolt that desperately needed some oil. She dragged the box in as if she was scared neighbors would see it and know. Know that it contained a year’s worth of hopes and missing Bobby pins. A years worth of kisses and baggy college t-shirts stolen from exes to be used as sleep wear, now being returned by the only ex she didn’t want to give that title. 

She heaved it up onto her kitchen table, and stared at it. No shipping label evident, meaning Lexa was here. Meaning Lexa carried this box across town, onto the subway, and up multiple flights of stairs. Meaning she had all the time in the world to change her mind. That the inconvenience of this hefty cardboard vessel wasn’t enough of a deterrent. Her love for Clarke not enough of a deterrent.

She gripped either side of it as she stared down. Her name in block letters on one of the flaps, looking like a beautiful attempt at cubism. With shaky hands, she ripped through cellophane tape and all the self preservation she had mustered. 

On top was a small piece of paper, again etched with her name. She wasn’t ready to go there yet, wasn’t ready for the finality of it. She set it aside, hoping she could read it in a time when she was a little braver, a little more healed. 

The first thing she saw was her favorite sweater; all large stitches of cream yarn. It always made her feel like a human ball of coziness. Now she wonders if she would ever be able to wear it again without thinking about the last person to see her in it.  
:  
:

Lexa pulled up in front of her parent’s home upstate. As Clarke stepped outside, she could see the brunette leaning on a candy apple red fender, auburn plaid half tucked into ripped jeans, hair in messy waves, wind blown and falling perfectly. She was beautiful and it almost stole all the air in the blonde’s lungs.

Once she was able to fully take the brunette in, she spotted the vintage convertible mustang holding her up right. It was an incredible sight glittering in the late morning sunlight. Lexa’s cool demeanor and easy smirk turned to an unbridled grin as Clarke approached. She snapped up and immediately went to open the passenger door, eyes having trouble leaving the blonde.

It was a cool autumn day, and Lexa told her to bundle up. Not knowing what that meant, she pulled on distressed light wash denim and her favorite cable knit cream sweater. It was no where near sexy or eye catching, but she hoped she’d earn a few extra points for the way it hugged her hips and made her look like she belonged in an ad for warm apple cider. Based off of Lexa’s nervous reaction, it seemed to do just that.

“Good morning, you look absolutely beautiful.” Lexa whispered into Clarke’s ear as the blonde slid passed her to take her seat. She had trouble hiding the flush of pink that was quickly conquering her cheeks. Lexa was smooth. She was unbelievably cool and almost always unaffected by everything around her. So when Clarke was the cause of her being off her game, nervous and flustered, it tended to have a similar effect on the blonde.

“You’re not half bad yourself.” Clarke did her best at a smooth delivery, but seeing the small fumble of Lexa’s fingers as she attempted to start the car made the blonde want to giggle.  
.

Top down, they sped through empty, two lane roads. Gold and fire red clinging to tree branches and wishful thinking. Autumn chill now claiming the tips of her fingers as she reached her arms up. She hoped the more she physically felt in this moment, the more it would cement some part of it in her when it became a memory. With the way Lexa was now watching her, all parts content smile and adoring eyes, she was sure the brunette was doing the same. Cataloging this fall day in a file folder in her mind labeled ‘best memories’.

And just like that, it was interrupted by a glaring red light and a slamming of brakes, which turned Clarke’s giggle to a full blown hearty laugh. Lexa’s cheeks were now flush with embarrassment, eyes focused on the road in front of them, only risking short glances as Clarke belted some 90s country song that was now blaring through the speakers.

.

“Are you uh... are you ready to meet everyone?” Lexa sounded nervous as they slowly pulled up to a charming Victorian home with a perfectly manicured lawn to match. 

“Lex, I was born ready. I have a knack for getting parents to fall in love with me.” While that statement was true, Clarke was nervous. Nervous because she had never really felt the desire to impress a significant other’s parents before. It usually just happened naturally. With Lexa it was different. While they had only been together for 6 months at this point, she wanted a future with her. She wanted a life with her, and maybe even a family with her.

She followed the brunette up a cobble stone paved path, equal parts charming and whimsical. Their hands were loose, but the tension of finger tips kept them interlocked, kept them connected. As they reached the door, Lexa turned back to her, assessing whether Clarke was truly ready for this, whether their relationship was ready for this. Her forrest green eyes scanned the blonde carefully, as if trying to find physical clues of apprehension and regret. But as their eyes met again, she came back only with total adoration, pulling the blonde close for one last content kiss.

“I’m ready, Lex. We’re ready.” She whispered against the brunette’s lips, foreheads pressed in gentle reassurance, warm breath imitating the shadow of a kiss.

“I know, and Clarke?” The blonde looked at her with pure curiosity, waiting for Lexa to finish her anxious thought. “I love you.”

There it was. The statement they had been dancing around for weeks. Clarke too scared to say it for fear of rejection. Lexa too scared to say it because she had never really said it before. Not when there was this much she could lose. 

“I love you too, Lex.” The giddy smile adorning the blonde’s lips earned itself another kiss, as shaky hands met tight jaw muscles. Totally distracted by each other and their relationship altering admission, they missed the sound of the door creaking open.

“Alright you two! Enough making out, and get in this house already!” A tall brunette stood in the doorway. She had effortless caramel waves framing her defined cheekbones and jaw line. Her eyes a shade of brown so light they looked like rays of golden sunshine. She was beautiful, and strongly resembled the girl next to Clarke, now snaking an arm around the blonde’s waist and pulling her closer.

“Anya, this is Clarke. Clarke, Anya.” With Lexa’s freehand she gestured between the two girls as if to tell them a handshake was in order. If the clumsy gesture weren’t so endearing, Clarke might find this incredibly awkward. But seeing her girlfriend as rattled as autumn leaves blowing in the street outside, made the blonde love her even more.

“Wow... you can tell this one never brings girls home... bring it in!” And before Clarke could really understand what was going on, she felt slender arms pulling her into a hug. It was tight, but still comforting, how a good hug should be. She felt lips close to her ear, hesitant breath displacing loose baby hairs.

“You must be important, because I didn’t think I’d live to see the day when she brought someone home to mom.” And just like that, Anya was slipping out of the hug and sliding an almost familial arm around her shoulders.

“Anya, she’s my girlfriend! I get to introduce her!”

“Not if I get to mom first!”

The two brunette’s were now racing down the hall, blurs of flying elbows and childlike laughter. Clarke felt like she was seeing a 10 year old Lexa chasing her big sister.

“Whoa, girls! Slow your rolls!” She heard a reprimanding, yet infinitely fond tone only a mother could provide. “And did I teach you no manners? Who is this lovely girl standing in the hall?” 

And just like that, Lexa was snapped back to reality, reaching her hand out to pull Clarke closer. 

“Mom, this is my girlfriend, Clarke.” There was unwavering pride in her voice, but her stiff posture told the blonde she was nervous. All tense angles and rigid muscles.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, Dr. Woods. I’ve heard so much about you.” Clarke stepped forwards, passing Lexa to reach out a hand.

“Please, call me Indra. And this family is a hugging family.” In a moment of total deja vu, she was pulled back into an equally warm embrace. Gentle hands rubbing her back in maternal affirmation. This felt like home. This felt like family.  
:  
:

She hugged the sweater to her chest, inhaling deeply as if searching for parts of moments memories couldn’t capture. But all she could smell was the brunette, notes of teakwood and bergamot. Notes of an incredibly happy time tainted by commitment issues and busy schedules.

She felt her chest tighten as the first tears in weeks began their decent down cheekbone caverns. Soaked up by yarn and useless what-ifs. It was supposed to be different. They were supposed to be different. 

As she placed the sweater to the side, she caught sight of something that took her totally by surprise. That auburn flannel that she always snuck out of Lexa’s closet as a sleep shirt. It was baggy on both of them, Lexa opting to wear it like a cardigan, Clarke habitually stealing it for makeshift pajamas.

Seeing it there, amongst travel size shampoo and mismatched socks, seeing it there amongst the mundane necessities of the day to day, caused the almost recovered falling of tears to escalate to a downpour.

She ran her fingers over dark stitches, eyes catching on an absent button. She couldn’t help remembering the moment of its demise. A moment that refused to be ruined by loose thread and runaway plastic. She always told Lexa she would sew it back on, but that promise now felt lost amongst good intentions and memories so warm they left blistered burns when touched.  
:  
:

“Your house is beautiful, doct- I mean Indra.” Clarke stuttered over her words as she caught sight of the shadow of a scowl now adorning Lexa’s mother’s face.

“Well, thank you very much, but it’s actually Anya’s now. I retired to Florida a few years ago to avoid the dreaded winters, and Anya didn’t have the heart to let it go.” 

“Well that, and her boy toy, Gus, convinced her it was time to take the plunge and cut long distance out of the equation.” Anya threw a playful smirk at her mother, eyes glittering with comedic mischief. Lexa was now wearing a similar expression as she flashed a knowing look to her sister.

“Wow, mom, is that a blush I see?” Lexa snickered through the delivery of her question, Anya landing a playfully affirming elbow to her side.” Indra responded with a warning glare, until a lively grin quickly took its place.

“I may not own the house anymore, but I still know where all the photo albums are. I’m sure your lovely girlfriend would like to take a look at those.” Now Indra was turned towards her, and while the statement was made as a humorous threat, the warmth of her expression told Clarke this was always the plan. That no matter what, Clarke was not leaving this house until she saw a six year old Lexa with missing baby teeth, attempting to suck up spaghetti noodles.

“Mommmm, noooo! You wouldn’t!” Lexa was now pleading, emerald green shimmering in pure horror.

“Well, I for one would love to see baby Lexa!” Clarke said as Indra led her into the kitchen and began retrieving unabridged dictionary sized photo albums. The largest one was gingerly placed in front of her, dark brown leather bound, with distressed corners and dog eared pages. 

Indra took the seat beside her, as Lexa leaned against the kitchen island, opting to cringe from afar. The first couple of pages were chalk full of the pint sized brunette, rosy red cheeks from a cool autumn day, blue stained lips from ungodly amounts of cotton candy, little hands balled into tiny fists. Everything about this image melted Clarke’s heart, made her wonder what their kids would look like one day. 

Indra flipped to another page, appearing to showcase the girls in sports gear. Anya, adorning a dark green soccer jersey, clutching a black and white ball. Lexa, wearing a royal blue t-ball t-shirt, pretending to swing a bat.

“God, she was so bad, she hit the tee more than she actually hit the ball.” This induced a full belly laugh from Indra, as Lexa buried her face in her hands and shook her head in pure embarrassment.

“Mom... please...” the plea was met by deaf ears as the hearty chuckles simmered to quiet giggles.

“Luckily, her hand eye coordination improved immensely when we got her in glasses. Her softball years were a lot easier to watch.” Clarke ran gentle fingers over the glossy photo. The pint sized brunette looked so proud, so eager. She had seen that look so often lately as she was introduced to Lexa’s friends or colleagues. So pure and so genuine.

“Ma, do you still have her potty training photos? I’m sure Clarke would loveeee to see those!” A mortified squeal came from the kitchen as Lexa shot death glares at her sister. Clarke let out an amused giggle as she saw bright red spreading over her girlfriend’s cheeks.

“As much as I’m loving seeing tiny Lexa, I think I’ll spare her on those.”  
.

At some point after dinner, but not before a grand tour of the home, they ended up squeezed into a twin sized bed in Lexa’s childhood bedroom. Elbows in ribcages, knees forming L shapes as they interlocked, 2 heads sharing one pillow.

Clarke awoke to an uncomfortable kink in her neck, squinting her eyes to view the time on the small clock resting on the bedside table. Neon green cut through thick darkness, alerting the blonde that it was 1:30 AM. As she turned over, expecting to wrap an arm around her favorite body, her haze of sleepiness was cut short by warm sheets but a missing Lexa. She then heard the quiet clattering of plates downstairs, taking that as her queue to check out the disturbance. 

“Lex, it’s the middle of the night... what’re you doing down here?” She pressed her shoulder to the kitchen door frame, watching the brunette jump at the whisper of an unexpected guest. She was standing in the soft glow of the refrigerator light, a slice of Anya’s homemade cheesecake in one hand, and a glass of chocolate milk in the other. Her eyes wide, her mouth slightly agape. She looked like a little kid who just got caught.

“Sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to wake you.” The unexpected pet name incited a radiating heat in the blonde’s chest as she abandoned her spot in the doorway and moved closer to the brunette. She wrapped her arms around Lexa’s waist, rocking slowly back and forth, and planting sleepy kisses on exposed collarbone. In one elegant twisting motion, Lexa had managed to set her partially devoured cheesecake and cup on the counter, then proceeded to fully emerged herself in the gentle swaying, kept in time by two beating hearts. 

Clarke reached her hands up to the brunette’s long neck, and pressed her face into the girl’s shoulder, taking in the delicate scent of Lexa’s perfume. Not too sweet, not too musky, just right. The brunette took this as her queue to snake her arms around Clarke’s waist and pull her in tight, their bodies flush, hips swaying carelessly to the sound of nothing at all.

Clarke turned her head and leaned forward, capturing her favorite pair of lips. She could feel a warm smile forming on them, making the kiss even sweeter. The fluorescent glow of the refrigerator kept them from stepping on each other’s toes, but the chill emanating from it caused the blond to shiver and burrow in impossibly close.

“God, I’m so in love with you, Clarke Griffin.” The quiet admission whispered into the shadows carried the heat from Clarke’s chest up to her cheeks and eyes. Seeing Lexa like this, totally vulnerable, totally softened by a mixture of nostalgia and the excitement of what the future could hold for them, made Clarke feel even more sure. This was it. 

This moment was barely interrupted by a loose button, falling off the plaid shirt Clarke was now borrowing as sleep wear. It bounced across the floor and found a home underneath the fridge, as if it was there as a token of this memory. There to memorialize it, to go untouched as physical proof of all of Clarke’s love forever lost within Lexa’s childhood home.

:  
:

She set the plaid shirt aside as she continued rummaging through mundane reminders of the day to day. Sets of mismatched socks, a pair of her old reading glasses, mini bottles of shampoo and conditioner. Seeing her life like this, discarded and half used, felt like paying respects to a graveyard of broken promises.

She didn’t want any of it. The sweater, the toiletries, the framed photos. And she especially didn’t want the flannel shirt that was never really hers. It was borrowed, just like the time she wasted in their relationship. Borrowed like all the hopes she had for a future together. Borrowed like the spare key she had to the brunette’s apartment. The stupid key that set the end into motion. The stupid key that she told Lexa seemed silly on her key ring when they spent most of their time at the blonde’s anyway. The stupid key that Clarke hoped would be traded in for a life together, with shared dresser drawers and communal pantry items that they purchased on a boringly domestic grocery store trip. Borrowed and stupid. Those are the only two words that perfectly described how Clarke felt right now.

So in a moment of total clarity brought forth by raw hurt and apologies left unforgiven, Clarke pulled that stupid key off of her key ring, wrapped it up in that borrowed flannel, and shoved it in her bag.  
.

The trip across town always took at least an hour and involved both walking and subway riding. Clarke used the time to clear her head and try to find some balance between the racing of her heart and the quickness of her breath. She kept one hand tucked inside of her bag, as if scared that the flannel would blow away or magically cease to exist all together. That all these precious memories that she clung onto, all these horrible fights she tried her best to forget, all the everyday moments once filled with sweet texts and soft lips and even softer words, might as well have been a dream. A long, painful, wonderful, reckless dream.

And she came to this aching realization as she walked through the park Lexa took her to on their first date. She said it was her favorite place because it felt like an oasis in the midst of a never ending cityscape. It wasn’t very big, just a few benches and a block’s worth of freshly cut grass. But it felt oddly private amongst the dog walkers and jogging businessmen. It felt quiet in ways that a city could normally never promise. It felt safe.

Well it used to feel safe before everything came crashing down. Now it just felt like another missing part of her. Another stolen memory. Another place she could no longer call home. 

So she picked up her pace, attempting but failing to breathe through the tightening in her chest and the tears forming in her eyes. She could feel the cool autumn breeze blowing the hair from her face and claiming her finger tips like it was claiming a memory, taking its permanence and tainting it to feel absolutely raw and painful. And just as she was about to give in to the impending panic attack, a ribbon of colors flew through the air and landed just mere inches in front of her. 

It looked like a scarf she hadn’t seen in almost a year. That same scarf she had left in a childhood home upstate with a family that felt so close to being her own that it ached to think that she was a stranger to them now. The same scarf Lexa swore she would get back to her, but instead tucked in her drawer for especially cool days. The same scarf she hadn’t even remembered to miss until it was laying at her feet, one end flying up as if it was waving to her in the breeze.

She knelt down to get a better look, grabbing the flapping end and rubbing it between her fingers. Still soft, and surprising still warm from the last neck It was wrapped around. She tried her best not to look up as she heard the jogging of feet moving closer. 

“Hey! That’s mine!” The panic in that saccharin sweet voice. The fear clinging to every uneasy syllable. “I would seriously die if I lost it.”

Clarke bristled then stiffened, totally unprepared for the body that belonged to that voice. Totally unprepared for the way an old scarf could hold such bitter sweet memories. Like they were stitched into it, like they were stitched into that flannel.

“I... I think this scarf might belong to me.” And in that moment, blue met green. Tense features softened in sadness, shoulders slumping, eyes heavy with tears, chest heavy with words unsaid.

“Clarke...” the brunette watched her carefully as she got to her feet, like she was memorizing this moment, memorizing the person that was monopolizing all the air in this too small, too sacred, too out of place park.

“But, I uh... I can give you a fair trade for it.” She rested the scarf on her forearm as she reached into her bag and pulled out that now very wrinkled plaid shirt. She handed it to the brunette so carefully, so slowly, that it almost felt like she was regretting it while it was happening.

“No, bab- I mean... Clarke, I want you to have it.” She watched as Lexa’s jaw tensed and eyes searched for answers in this totally unexpected moment. Clarke was still trying to recover from the pet name that almost escaped from the brunette’s mouth.

“I don’t want it. I don’t want any of it.” She tried her best to keep her voice level, but every word now felt cumbersome and foreign in her mouth. “I didn’t want any of this. I didn’t want promises you couldn’t keep, and secrets you never intended to share. I didn’t want a box on my table full of memories and moments and stupid bottles of shampoo. I didn’t want the way you felt like home, felt like my whole heart, just to find out I never felt anything like that to you. And I certainly didn’t want the idea of living together to scare you so much that you just ran. Without a word. Without a second thought.”

The brunette stayed silent, her mouth slightly agape but still absolutely wordless. Her eyes were softened by sadness and what appeared to be exhaustion. Though Clarke couldn’t really be sure of that seeing as she hadn’t slept next to the girl in over a month.

“Actually... no need for the trade. Keep all of it.” Clarke shoved the articles of clothing back at her, Lexa’s key falling loose in the process, hitting the pavement with a small clink. “You could’ve told me you weren’t ready to move in together. It wasn’t an ultimatum, it wasn’t all or nothing. But instead of talking to me about it, you shut me out. You left me to wonder what I did wrong...”

And with that statement gliding through the air, Clarke pivoted on her heels and started the trek back to her apartment. Cool breeze be damned, her body felt like a furnace hot with anger and sadness and utter disappointment.

“Clarke, did you read the letter?” The words broke through some self preservation sound barrier, stopping the blonde in her tracks. This gave the brunette enough time to catch up, to carefully pull at the blonde’s wrist until they were facing each other.

“I couldn’t do it... I couldn’t see the end in writing just yet...” Lexa softened further, no edges left. Just a veritable puddle of guilt and sadness. She kept her gentle hand on Clarke’s wrist, attempting soothing circles with her thumb, but too scared to do anything else in fear of pushing too far.

“I was talking with Anya on the phone the other night. She reminded me that it’s almost been a year since I brought you home. And when she said it, all I wanted to do was go back to that day. It was so easy, we were so in love, you looked at me like I was the sun and I felt the same way about you.” Lexa’s words began to falter, eyes carefully watching the tracing of her thumb. “But as I thought more about it, I realized that those feelings never changed for me. Not after things fell apart, and certainly not today. I look at you, and I feel like you are my home.”

Clarke shook her head, unable to process the total juxtaposition of Lexa’s actions verses her words. The physical manifestation of her confusion took the form of a half empty box on her kitchen table. Took the form of unanswered text messages and desperate voicemails. 

“What does any of this have to do with the box you left on my doorstep, and the note you wanted me to read.” 

“After I came to this realization, and after a long discussion with Anya, I knew that I had been an absolute coward. I ran from you, I cut you off, all because you were asking me to take the next step and I thought I wasn’t ready. And I knew you were right, I could just tell you I wasn’t and we could continue being the happy and in love couple that we were, but the next step still felt inevitable.” Lexa flinched at her own words, like she was dodging every conclusion they seemed to imply. “So you’re right, I ran. I shut you out. I was so unintentionally cruel in the name of self preservation.”

Clarke stayed silent, staring at a tree over the brunette’s shoulder. She didn’t know what to say, how to acknowledge all the things she already knew. Each passing moment felt more painful than the last, and she just wanted to scream.

“I’m not sure what this speech is accomplishing, Lexa.” The brunette squirmed under the weight of that short sentence, quickly realizing her own words were not conveying the intended message.

“Fuck... why am I so bad at this?” She was now shaking her head and releasing the blonde’s wrist as if to tell her she’s free to go. She then turned to face away from the blonde, breathing in a heavy sigh and collecting all of her thoughts. When she turned back around, Clarke could see the relief in her eyes, relief that the blonde was still there, patiently waiting. “Clarke, during our time apart I realized that it wasn’t that I wasn’t ready to commit, ready to build a home and a life together. I was just scared of the immensity of it all. And that fear caused me to destroy the one relationship that means everything in the world to me. 

That letter... it was my stupid attempt at telling you that if you’re ready to move in together, so am I. That box of stuff I returned to you, it was my way of saying that we don’t need it at my apartment anymore because either I’ve done too much damage to fix us or that you would be willing to take me back and to give me a chance to move in and build a home with you.”

She was now inching closer, her hand reaching to capture another. She bit at her lip, but still found the strength to look into those bright blue eyes. She stood there, all armor off, begging for a second chance.

“Lexa... you can’t just say this if you don’t mean it. You can’t agree to move in together just because you’re scared you’re gonna lose me...” Clarke took in a heavy breath, rattling with unshed tears.

“Clarke... baby...” The pet name took the blonde by surprise, causing pure panic to flash in her eyes. Lexa either didn’t notice or was undeterred by it. “This isn’t some sad attempt at trying to win you back... I mean... I am trying to get you back, but I’m not saying these things or doing these things out of fear. I’m saying these things and doing these things because I’m so in love with you that nothing feels like home without you. Not my apartment, not this park, not even my childhood bedroom. All of it feels like it’s now missing something, now missing you.”

Clarke searched emerald green for any clue of a lie told, any shadow of a doubt. Instead, all she found was a total sadness spotlighted by a glint of unrefined hope. She was not sure she had ever seen the brunette this way, with walls crumbled in front of her, torn down by total realization and self reflection. But was it enough?

“Lexa... I can’t go through this again. I can’t wake up one day thinking we’re fine, just for you to disappear on me.... I can’t be the only one giving my whole heart while you’re still holding out for every reason why you shouldn’t. I want you so bad, but I can’t be the only one seeing a future here.” Clarke began to ease away, releasing slender fingers that had knotted themselves around her own. “I’m sure you miss me. I’m sure you want me and this right now. But right now is the easy part, the most convenient part... I want the tomorrow, the next year, the next 50 years, and you want me in this moment while I feel like nostalgia, while I feel like you’re childhood home of happy memories. I can’t risk you mistaking missing me for wanting a future with me...”

And with that, she she let go of finger tips barely pressed against her own, and turned to make the trek back home. No footsteps or words followed. No scarf, or shirt, or key as a token of their time together. This was the first moment of a future that Lexa could probably never see herself in. Clarke ached with all the ways she couldn’t change that.

.

After she got home, she poured a glass of wine, started a bath, and grabbed the letter still neatly folded on the kitchen table. She needed total closure, and that piece of paper felt like the final key to it.

She sat back in the tub for a moment, letting hot water bathe away every part of her Lexa had touched, every part of her that still yearned to feel that touch. She then took a sip from her stemless glass and found the courage to grab the note from the floor next to her. She ran gentle finger tips over the heavy handed penmanship that spelled put her name. This was it, this was the end to a future that a Clarke wanted more than she could properly vocalize.

“Dear Clarke,

I think the only way I can start this letter is with an apology. I’m so sorry. 

I’m sure you’re wondering what happened, why I ran. I’m sure, knowing you, you’re wondering what you did wrong. How you could’ve done something differently to stop this from happening. And I hate myself for knowing you could be blaming yourself. This is all on me. You were perfect, you are perfect, and I’m a fucking idiot for acting like a scared child and ruining it. For being so afraid of what the next step meant that I never even considered that it’s really all I’ve ever wanted.

I knew the moment I met you that you were the one. I don’t think I ever told you that. I definitely should’ve told you that. 

I should’ve told you that the sound of your laugh is more beautiful than any melody I’ve ever heard. That my favorite color is whatever shade of blue your eyes are that day. I should’ve told you that there is nothing more incredible than getting to spend a Sunday morning with you in bed, lost in the sheets, lost in each other. And I definitely should’ve told you, in the dim refrigerator light in the kitchen of my childhood home that I wanted to marry you. That I wanted forever with you. That I still want forever with you.

I want to build a home of happy memories like the one I had growing up, and I guess it felt like overwhelmingly large shoes to fill. I want to fill photo albums to the brim with moments that bring me so much joy my heart will burst. I want to get married, and have babies, and embarrass those babies in front of the loves of their lives with these photo albums. And the only person that I can see any of this happening with is you.

I know my actions seem contradictory now, looking down at a box of all your things returned to you. Believe me, it kills me to pull your shampoo from my shower. To take your sweater off the hanger in my closet. To give you back your parts of our best memories and moments. But please know, this isn’t me signaling the end. This box is the first of what I hope will be many if you can forgive me for how stupid I’ve been, how reckless with our love I’ve been. I hope that there is a way for me to earn your trust back, to earn back a key to your apartment that I hope will be our apartment one day. Because Clarke, I’m so ready. I’m so hopelessly in love with you, and can’t imagine calling a place home that doesn’t have you in it.

And if not, if I’ve done too much damage, made too much of a mess, of course I understand. The way I’ve acted these last few weeks has been unforgivable, and I know I don’t deserve you and the patience, warmth, and love you’ve shown me. 

If this is the end for us, please keep this flannel. As much as I hate the thought of being another ex adding to your borrowed sleepwear collection, that flannel was always meant to be yours. Seeing you in it, hair in a bun, makeup off, passed out on your side of the bed filled me with so much happiness that I’m not even sure there are words to describe it. And when you wear it now, I hope you think of the best parts of us. The warmth, and the love, and the comfort our relationship exuded. I hope you think of an autumn evening in the middle of the night when we danced to the sound of our own hearts. When a rogue button fell off and disappeared forever under the refrigerator. I hope you know that a piece of my heart, the best piece of my heart, will forever be yours, forever be unreachable like that button, like our memories, like all the words that should exist but don’t to describe the immense happiness you’ve given me.

I love you, Clarke. Always. I loved you the first day I met you. I love you today. I’ll love you tomorrow. And I’ll love you for the rest of my life. I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you. I’m sorry it took me running scared to realize it.

You’re it for me. Always.  
Lexa”

Clarke could barely breathe as she set the letter down on the floor next to the tub. Just far enough so there was no way it could get ruined by rogue water droplets. She took a minute to stare forward, to process all of this new, undeniably important information. Lexa wasn’t just scared of losing her. She wanted a future with her. She wanted forever with her. It was in that exact moment that Clarke knew she made a mistake.

She could feel the tears beginning to fall as she leapt out of the tub, almost slipping on the tile floor, and grabbing the nearest towel she could find. She ran to grab her phone, cursing herself for leaving it on the charger in the kitchen. She searched through her call list, her heart only stinging slightly at the fact that their last call, the last time the spoke, was no where near recent. She hit Lexa’s name on her screen as fast as humanly possible, annoyed at the persistent dial tone. 

“Clarke...”

“Lexa... I read your letter...”

Before she heard the brunette’s response, there was a quiet knock on her door.

“You might want to answer that.” Lexa said without a beat. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Clarke sprinted to the door, not giving a second thought about how the only thing covering her body was an old towel. She fumbled with the lock, cursing herself again for not oiling the temperamental deadbolt.

“Wow... I... I can come back when you have clothes on.” Clarke would normally laugh at a statement like that coming from Lexa’s mouth, but her brain was too preoccupied with the revelation of that letter. It was in that moment that Clarke eyed the flannel, now bunched in Lexa’s hand. She yanked it from the girl and ran to the bathroom, reappearing with it misbuttoned and totally disheveled. The image caused the brunette to go slightly slack jawed, her body tensing, and her eyes trying their best not to stare but failing pretty epically. “So... uh... you read my letter.”

“I read your letter.”

“And... what did you... Ummm... what did you think?” The tension in Lexa’s body language, the way she stuttered over her words and found it hard to make eye contact, told the blonde she was nervous. She was off her game. She was totally at the mercy of whatever Clarke’s next words ended up being. So she remained wordless. She moved quietly across the room, turned off all the lights so that the kitchen was only visible because of the soft glow of the now setting sun, and cracked the refrigerator door open. She then pulled at the end of Lexa’s (well really her) scarf, and let the brunette move impossibly close without actually making skin to skin contact. She could feel the ghosts of Lexa’s hands hovering over her hips, too scared to push too far, to read the moment wrong. 

“It’s okay, Lex. It’s okay.” And with that, all tense angles melted away. Finger tips found their home on wrinkled, soft auburn, eyes stared down at her feet, still to scared to ruin this incredibly important moment.

“Clarke... I’m so sorry.” Her voice cracked and her lip quivered. She looked so impossibly innocent in the moment as she professed her guilt. “I love you so much... And I’m so fucking sorry.” 

And with that, the tears fell. The first time in their over a year of dating that Clarke saw the brunette cry. The first time she felt her crumble and falter. The first time she felt totally real, totally there, totally invested. 

“Lex, I forgive you, and I love you too.” With that, forest green eyes met her own, misty but shining with reckless hope. “Did you mean everything you said in that letter?”

“Every. Word.” The brunette said it with such certainty that it made Clarke wonder why she ever questioned it to begin with. “Clarke Griffin, you are it for me. And if you’d let me, I’d really like to start the rest of my life with you.

And as if words weren’t enough, Clarke kissed her. The first kiss they had had in weeks, standing in refrigerator light, swaying to the sound of their own heart beats. 

“Welcome home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think of this chapter!
> 
> I’m not sure how many more chapters of this fic I’ll do, because I haven’t gotten much of a response from it. If you do like it and want me to continue, please let me know!
> 
> Also open to song suggestions if you have any!

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think of this chapter, and if you would like to see more chapters like it!


End file.
